


here we are again

by EyesOfDolls



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, Fusion, Gen, Insecurities, Self Loathing, as you can see the episode threw me off a cliff, bleeding/blood as metephors, cursing, i have my ap exams but yknow what i need to aggressively project onto the twins, they aren't really graphic???, vauge ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-02
Updated: 2020-05-02
Packaged: 2021-03-02 09:02:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23968792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EyesOfDolls/pseuds/EyesOfDolls
Summary: Roman was suppose to be the solution.Remus was suppose to be left alone.But it didn't work, it never would.
Relationships: Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders & Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders & Deceit Sanders
Comments: 3
Kudos: 37





	here we are again

It was a wound, twice scarred, that Roman couldn’t help but keep picking at. It was easy to fall into old habits which is why he had to work twice as hard to keep it from bleeding all over again. Sometimes he felt too quiet, sometimes too loud, clutching at the ideas in his head-- trying to make something of worth, trying to shape himself into something of value, someone who could be trusted. 

What he didn’t know was that he was already bleeding, he was sitting in a puddle of his own mistakes, slick with it's taunting failure and he didn’t even know it. He wasn’t sure if the denial made it better or worse. He didn’t want to know, but it certainly didn’t make it excusable. 

'How many times can someone apologize?' 

That’s the real question because after so many slip-ups, why should they be expected to forgive him? He should be a hero, that knight in shining armor that can be trusted, yet he couldn’t even trust himself. He was supposed to be the solution, but it was all falling apart, he was falling. 

“Oh, lookie, “ Remus let out a laugh, a high-pitched cackle which grated Roman’s nerves, “Did they finally get sick of your face?”

Roman’s eyes snapped up, but with no real heat, no real anything, “What are you doing here?” he said, as Remus crouched in front of him, rocking on the balls of their feet.

“What am I doing here?” Remus made a tsking sound, flopping down with the expected amount of grace, “No, no, no, I should be asking you that question, ” he made a sweeping gesture, “This is my place, not yours,” he said, “So get the hell out, eh?” 

Roman rolled his eyes, “No I’m--” He froze, eyes registering the sweeping darkness around him. His heart sank, a slow trotting panic filling him as he consciously searched for his space, his part imagination, only to be told that he was there. He was already there. 

Remus realized at the same time, “Oh,” he said, manic grin the same, but eyes dull. 

Roman stood abruptly, “I can fix this,” He gritted through his teeth, not daring to look down, not daring to look at them-no, himself. He’d have to, there was no way he was going to let this unravel all their work, unravel their deal. He can work. He can exist. 

“Can you?” Remus taunted, but he looked sick, “This isn’t the first time you fucked up,” 

“If I do recall,” Roman grumbled, trying to will the imagination apart, “Last time was your fault,” 

“Middle school sucked ass,” Remus said, ”I was keeping it fun and spicy, and--” he grimaced, “Ugh, hurry up I can already feel your self-loathing,”

“I’m trying,” Roman snapped, “It isn’t,” The imagination wasn’t budging,”...It isn’t…”

“It isn’t working,” Remus finished for him, dangerously quiet. 

“I don’t think it ever worked,” Roman nodded numbly, not quite knowing when he sat down, “We...don’t work...I--” his shoulders shook, but he wasn’t crying, the laughter spilling without joy, without anything, he couldn’t feel anything, “I don’t work,” 

Remus didn’t respond, he didn’t have to. Everything was spilling into each other, the lines were already blurring, the wound was gushing and showed no signs of stopping. The hate, the love, every nauseating fear clashing with secret desires too much to ever hear. 

Remus would’ve never admitted that he wasn’t curious about before. One moment there was creativity, the concept-- infallible without fault, the next moment there were the two of them. The one that worked until they couldn't, the one that worked in all the wrong ways.

At a certain point, Remus had embraced it. He didn’t have to face the prying eyes of the other sides. He did what he did without fearing whether he was too much or not enough, but he also did without reward. He did without acknowledgment because he didn’t need the mess, the feelings, the limits. 

He didn’t need it. 

But that doesn't mean he didn’t crave it. A deep, gnawing hunger, for more--knowing that the other sides had more, that they were complete. One could say he hoped that maybe if they were together instead of separated that it would be better. 

Now they were complete, but they were still spiraling, still hungry for something they couldn’t quite understand and all they could ask themselves is, “What now?”


End file.
